


Memories Like Embers

by starkly



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Team Dynamics, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkly/pseuds/starkly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony’s death leaves Pepper and Steve behind to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories Like Embers

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post [here](http://fuckyeahpepperonysteve.tumblr.com/post/24741127869/) (with some lovely art of Rescue) and a burning need to write something as sad as I possibly could. Somehow more Steve/Pepper fluff and team feels snuck in than I intended, but hey, I’m not complaining.

> _Oh you were a fire caught in a storm  
>  Memories like embers keep us warm_  
>  \- The Hush Sound, “Don’t Wake Me Up”

They don't expect it to happen like this.

It's not that they're under any illusion that Tony's invincible, though Tony would like to convince them of that at times. He's just as human, just as fragile as the rest of them. Doubly so without Iron Man, a fact Tony tries to brush away by being even more of a risk taker outside the suit than in it. Tony had accepted the possibility of death a while ago, and while Pepper and Steve don't like it, they've accepted it too.

They just don't expect it to be so soon. So mundane.

Pepper had taken Steve aside once, a few days into the start of their relationship, brushed a clump of hair out of his eyes and asked him to watch out for Tony. Steve had smiled, nodded, and took Pepper's hand in his, telling her that he already was. Tony complained, of course, once he'd realized what they were doing, protested that he didn't need babying. But he let them do their thing, his protests minimal when they urged him to sleep or made him dinner or protected him from angry robotic alien attacks (that last one was mostly Steve). He reluctantly agreed that between the two of them, they did a good job.

The crash happens at 11:06 P.M., on a Tuesday, caught on one of New York's many traffic cameras.

Tony's dead before the paramedics even arrive.

* * *

Pepper's getting ready for bed when her cell phone rings. She answers it without checking the caller I.D., smiling as she says, “Hello?” Steve was meant to call her after his flight back to New York from some mission in Brazil had landed.

She's not expecting the low, melancholy tones of a medical doctor, but for a moment she's almost not surprised at his message. She listens in silence, fingers wrapped so tightly around the phone she'd be afraid of breaking it if Tony hadn't designed the thing himself. When she finally hangs up, she takes a deep breath, then flings the phone across the room.

It hits the far wall and clatters to the floor, and she wishes it would have broken.

* * *

Steve hasn't even changed out of his uniform yet, and the sight of Captain America barreling through the hospital is enough to stop anyone in their tracks and let him pass. Natasha follows him with careful, steady strides, but her calm expression slowly fades with every step closer to Tony's hospital room. They're roughed up and bloodied and bruised and neither of them care right now.

A tearful nurse points Steve to the proper room once they reach the fourth floor. They'd taken Tony out of the ER once it was clear he could not be saved, given him his own room for the time being, because Tony Stark isn't someone who's just shipped off to the morgue and forgotten. Steve hesitates at the door until Natasha puts a hand on his arm, not pushing him forward or pulling him back. Just resting.

He opens the door and instantly wishes he hadn't, wishes he'd gotten here soon, wishes he could go back in time and stop this all from ever happening. Natasha hovers in the doorway, keeping her distance, but she swallows heavily at the sight of Tony laid out on the bed, bloody and unmoving. 

Pepper sits in a chair at Tony's beside, clutching his hand and sobbing quietly. She looks up at the sound of Steve's voice as he enters the room and walks over, murmuring strangled phrases like “oh God” and “this isn't happening” and “Tony.” Stripping off his gloves, he takes Tony's other hand, feeling the calluses on his fingertips and the bits of dried blood that hadn't been washed off yet.

The arc reactor in his chest is still glowing faintly, working valiantly to keep the shrapnel away from Tony's no-longer-beating heart.

Steve stands there, staring at Tony's face, still holding his hand. His eyes are closed, and it'd look like he was just asleep, were it not for the scrapes and the bruises and the bandages around his head. Pepper's tears have resided into soft, broken sobs every now and again, and Steve finally lifts his gaze from Tony's face to hers.

“Of all the things to finally — to happen. A car crash.” His voice sounds rough to his ears, his throat like sandpaper.

“It's absurd, right?” Pepper's voice sounds hollow, and her subsequent laugh is punctuated by tears and shaky breaths.

“Did they say how — ”

“Head trauma,” she answers quickly, closing her eyes.

Steve doesn't respond, just keeps stroking the back of Tony's hand with his thumb. All he wants to do is cry, but he holds it in; there will be time for crying later, he reasons, and right now he needs to be strong for Pepper. But when he looks back at Natasha, who's been silent all this time, hand over her mouth and the beginnings of tears in her eyes, he breaks.

His knees hit the floor, and both hands are on Tony's hand, like squeezing hard enough will wake Tony up. The tears come of their own volition, silently carving paths in the grime on his face. Pepper is out of her chair and over on the other side of the bed in seconds, arms wrapping around Steve as she holds him tight. She's crying into Steve's shoulder and Steve's crying into Tony's hand and Natasha's crying in the doorway and it doesn't feel like the world will ever be right again.

* * *

The first full night without him is torture. They don't sleep much that Tuesday evening, refusing to leave his hospital room until Natasha practically has to drag the two of them away. Fury tells them not to worry, that SHIELD will take care of everything, despite Pepper's protests that she was perfectly capable of handling the funeral arrangements. Steve just rubs a calming hand over her back and leads her away before she tries to kill Fury with her purse.

She can't stand the thought of going back to Stark Tower yet, so Steve takes her to his little apartment in Brooklyn, the one he goes to every once in awhile when he needs to just get away from everything. He'd been using it less and less in the past year, as Stark Tower and the Avengers grew to be his home and his family.

Squished together atop Steve's full-size mattress, which was nowhere near the size of the one Tony had in their room back in the Tower, they hold each other tight so there's no space between them, nothing that would remind them about the man missing from their bed. It doesn't work.

* * *

The arc reactor still works, unharmed in the crash. The SHIELD morticians apologetically call Pepper in, telling her that Mr. Stark had left explicit instructions to give her the reactor should it ever fall into SHIELD's hands. They'd already taken it from his chest, sparing Pepper the pain of having to rip it from Tony herself.

It glows weakly as she holds it, and she's reminded of the first time she saw the reactor outside of Tony's body, when he'd made her replace the old burnt-out one with a newer model. The original reactor had saved his life after Obadiah Stane had stolen the new version right out of his chest.

She wishes the reactor in her hands could do the same.

* * *

Pepper already has a dress for Tony's funeral. To most it would seem morbid, but Steve understood that was just how Pepper was. Planning ahead for every little detail or possibility, worrying about everything for everyone so they don't have to. Steve wouldn't be surprised if she had a suit picked out for Tony, on the off chance that she died before him. Or, Steve muses grimly, if somehow Steve himself died first.

It's a long, black dress, and she wears it with her hair down and the least ostentatious jewelry Tony had bought her. Even in mourning she looks beautiful, making Steve feel plain in his military dress. Tony would have argued otherwise — he always went out of his way to tell Steve how gorgeous he was — and the thought makes Steve close his eyes and take a deep, calming breath. Crying in a hospital room or in bed is one thing. Crying while trying to give a speech at his best friend and lover's funeral was another, at least when you're Captain America.

* * *

Rhodes speaks first, then Steve, and between the two of them it's enough to put the majority of the room in tears. Those who aren't crying, like Nick Fury, are likely not through sheer power of will. Pepper's never liked funerals, least of all the funerals of people close to her, and she has to keep herself in her seat through the speeches and the condolences, when all she'd really like to do is run outside and not look back. She's sitting up front with the Avengers and other people Tony was close to, sniffling and dabbing her eyes with Steve's handkerchief. About halfway through the service Bruce takes her hand, and Pepper holds it in her lap, his touch grounding her.

This part of the ceremony is closed-casket, with a few news crews (vetted by Fury) allowed to broadcast the proceedings. Tony's actual burial, however, is restricted to a select few, no cameras allowed. Steve, Thor, Clint, and Rhodes carry the coffin out into the graveyard, where a small, white canopy is set up beside a hole in the ground that Pepper doesn't want to look at. Instead she focuses on the others gathered around, people who, despite Tony's occasional confessions that he couldn't believe he had any friends at all, actually cared about Tony Stark. 

The coffin is set at the front of the canopy and opened so that everyone can pay their final respects. Pepper lingers near the back of the crowd, and a few seconds later Steve appears at her side. Together, they watch Rhodes say his piece and salute before stepping away; Clint speaks while wiping away what likely are tears; Natasha kisses Tony's forehead, but her eyes are dry; Thor solemnly claps a hand on Tony's shoulder, and Pepper can hear his praise from across the tent; Bruce just stares silently for a bit before leaning down to whisper something in Tony's ear. The line continues, Fury and Maria and Happy all have their turn, and finally Pepper's up.

She steps forward, unclenching her hands from her sides and resting them on the edge of the coffin. The morticians had cleaned Tony up beautifully, and if Pepper didn't look too hard she could pretend Tony was only asleep. A sleeping Tony was a sight to behold, Steve had joked once, considering he rarely slept. Now it just made Pepper's chest ache.

Steve's warm presence at her side is a welcomed comfort, encouraging her to go on. She touches Tony's hands where they rest on his chest and whispers,

“Working for you was a struggle to keep hold of my sanity, Tony Stark. You were frustrating and arrogant and stubborn, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. My time with you was the best years of my life. I'm proud of you, of the work you did and all the lives you saved.” She pauses, leaning down to press a light kiss to Tony's lips. “I love you.”

Taking a deep breath, she steps to the side, letting Steve have his say. He caresses Tony's cheek gently, clearing his throat before speaking. “You helped me get through some really tough times, Tony. We were real jerks to each other at first, but you took me in, gave me a home. Gave me things I thought I'd never have again. Working alongside you was a real honor.” He bends down without hesitation, following Pepper's example and briefly kissing Tony. “I love you too.”

Steve slides an arm around Pepper's shoulders, and they stand together a moment longer by Tony before finally stepping back and allowing SHIELD personnel to close the coffin lid and begin the process of lowering Tony into the earth. Steve strokes Pepper's hair as they watch Tony disappear from them forever.

* * *

Alright, so forever may have been a bit dramatic. Tony's presence doesn't disappear completely, of course. The Avengers remain in Stark Tower. Stark Industries is still up and running. Newspapers and blogs and TV news don't stop talking about Tony Stark and Iron Man for quite some time. But it's not the same, never will be. Not when Steve walks into the gym and can't ask Tony to spar with him anymore, when Pepper realizes her signature is the only one needed on SI paperwork, when the two of them fall asleep and wake up together in bed without Tony between them.

“It's like having a ghost that never goes away,” Pepper remarks quietly to Steve one evening, “that follows you around everywhere you go.”

Steve hugs her and she grips him tightly, comforted in clinging to something so solid and alive.

* * *

Steve spends a lot of time in the gym. Pepper finds an increase in punching bag purchases on the Avengers budget statements.

* * *

“Tony didn’t leave a will,” Pepper says without preamble when Steve walks into the room. There’s a Stark Industries lawyer at the table, briefcase open in front of her, but she seems somewhat cowed by Pepper and lets her take charge without complaint.

“Nothing at all?” He lowers himself into a chair across from the two women, pulling back his cowl and running a hand through his sweaty hair. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to change out of his uniform before Pepper had called him in for a meeting with one of the Stark lawyers. Iron Man may be no more, but the Avengers were still needed.

Tony had always been reckless, but he’d never been unprepared. He knew the possible consequences of his actions, whether he cared about them or not.

“There’s something, but it barely qualifies as a legal document.”

Steve looks at Pepper expectantly, and she presses a button on the table’s touchpad. Tony’s voice echoes from the speaker system, just as warm and rambling as Steve remembers it. He bets that if he closed his eyes, it would feel like Tony was in the room with them.

“JARVIS, just shut up and record. Oh, you’re recording now? Okay, right, so hey guys. If you’re listening to this, it means I’ve finally kicked the bucket. I can only hope I went down in a fiery blaze of glory, but that’s not important. If you haven’t figured it out yet, this is my will. Yeah, Pepper, I know, you’re complaining this ‘barely qualifies as a legal document,’ I don’t want to hear it. The last thing I want to do is sit around in a room with a bunch of old stuffy dudes and hash out what to do with all my stuff when I’m dead.

“So here’s how it’s going to work out. Pepper and Steve get everything.”

Steve’s eyes go wide, and he looks ready to protest, but Pepper shakes her head and indicates that he keep listening.

“That was a pause both for dramatic effect and because I bet Steve just tried to throw a hissy fit. Didn’t he? You did, don’t try to deny it, Steve. Anyway, yeah. Everything to you two. You’re the best people I know and you’ll know what to do with all the shit I’ve accumulated over the years. And I mean all of it. The money, Stark Tower, the house in Malibu, the cars, Iron Man, JARVIS, the whole shebang. Give it to charity, keep it for yourselves, I don’t care. Just don’t let anyone who doesn’t deserve it get their hands on my stuff.”

There’s another pause, and this time Tony doesn’t give any reasoning. When he starts talking again, however, his voice sounds rougher, more subdued. “This is probably incredibly presumptuous, but I’m assuming we’re still together by the time you’re hearing this. A-and even if we weren’t, I wanted to let you know that the time I spent with you was the best of my life.

“Pepper, you do more for me than you ever should have to, as my PA, my CEO, my girlfriend, whatever. Don’t let anyone take Stark Industries away from you, okay? Unless you want them to. But I’m trusting you to take care of the company. You’re the only one who won’t run it into the ground. Hell, you’ll probably make it way better than I ever did. You made me better, after all, and that’s no easy feat.”

Steve glances over at Pepper. She’s not crying, but her eyes look a little watery, like she’s cried enough before to keep herself mostly under control now.

“Steve, all my life I asked myself ‘What would Captain America do?’ if I had to think my way out of a tricky situation. Didn’t always act the way I thought Captain America would, but the thought was still there. I don’t know exactly when, but sometime after I met you, it became ‘What would Steve Rogers do?’ and wouldn’t you know, sometimes I even followed that advice. The Avengers are in your hands, Cap. Don’t let them down.

“The two of you are the most beautiful, loving, fantastic people I’ve had the good fortune to meet. Also, the sex is amazing. Just throwing it out there. There needs to be a national monument dedicated to your ass, Cap, because wow. Pepper knows what I’m talking about. And don’t frown at the ceiling, it’s not helping you any.”

Steve’s blush darkens even further and he stops glaring at the ceiling.

“Honestly, I’ll never know what the two of you saw in me. But whatever it was, I’m glad you saw it. I love you both more than you can ever know. You take care of each other, you hear me?

“God, and I hope I’m actually dead if you’re listening to this sentimental crap. Don’t laugh too hard if I’m not.”

No one speaks for a moment, likely to let Steve get his bearings, take everything in, try to process it. He finally looks up at Pepper and nods. She lets out a little sigh, rubbing her forehead. “This is going to be a legal nightmare. Regardless, it’s the closest thing we have to a will, and Miranda promises she can get it pushed through as legitimate.”

The timid-looking lawyer nods, and Pepper continues.

“Mostly I’m just worried about the media shitstorm that’ll occur once they realize the two of us inherited literally everything. We can play it off as being the girlfriend and the best friend, though I predict Rhodey will complain about that, but you know people will be suspicious. Legal-wise we’ll work with just the first half of the message, as the second half is clearly more…personal.”

She pauses, reaching across the table to lay a hand on his. “I just want to know if you’re okay with this.”

“With what?” he asks, still somewhat in shock.

“The will, the questions from the media, everything.”

He swallows carefully to wet his parched throat and says, “Yes.”

Pepper gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll take care of this, Steve, I promise. I’ll talk to you later about what we’re going to do with all of Tony’s things. Just go get cleaned up and try to relax, okay?”

Steve nods again, squeezing her hand in return before standing. He’s almost to the door when he turns back and adds, “Pepper? Could I… May I have a copy of that recording?”

“Of course. Just ask JARVIS upstairs.”

Steve listens to the recording of Tony ten more times in the privacy of his bedroom that evening alone.

* * *

She cries sometimes, when she thinks no one’s looking. She cries over the littlest things, like a t-shirt Tony left in the workshop or a photograph taped to the minifridge behind the bar.

Steve hasn’t cried since that night at the hospital.

* * *

Tony’s workshop is still a mess when Pepper sets foot inside it for the first time since the accident. Some cleanup had been attempted by Dum-E, but he had made very little impact. JARVIS greets her as she enters, asking what he can assist her with.

“I’m just…looking,” Pepper answers, and JARVIS stays silent, understanding. Dum-E rolls over slowly, and Pepper pets his arm before walking over to Tony’s main desk. It’s littered with papers and at least six different wrenches and a glass with dried smoothie crusted around the inside. She sighs, picking up the glass to take it to the sink, but something in the corner of her eye catches her attention and she pauses. It’s the bracelets she had given Tony, modified to assemble the Iron Man Mark VII. She touches one of them but pulls back like she’s been burned, shaking her head and continuing to the sink. Running the old smoothie cup under the water, she leaves it there to soak.

“Ms. Potts?”

Pepper jumps, startled. “Sorry?”

“The suits are rightfully yours now, ma’am.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, purposefully refraining from glancing over at the armor lineup against the far wall. “Your point, JARVIS?”

There’s a pause, as if JARVIS were contemplating his next words, and a fierce ache swells in her chest. That Tony could create something as brilliant and astonishing as JARVIS. That he wasn’t here to banter with him anymore. That, for lack of a better comparison, these AI were his children and he had left them all behind to carry on without him.

“My point, Ms. Potts, is that if you desire to try on one of the suits, I could easily calibrate it to your body.”

Another silence, this time from Pepper. “We should move Dum-E and the others into the research labs,” she says at last, “so they have something to do.”

“Of course, ma’am. Mr. Stark would…appreciate the thought.”

Pepper clears her throat, heels clicking as she walks back to the door. “Thank you, JARVIS. I’ll have someone down to herd them into the elevator shortly.”

* * *

Life outside Stark Tower continues on as usual. Supervillains don’t stop just because Iron Man’s not on the scene anymore, and the Avengers are dealt their usual assignments.

Inside the tower, things are more subdued. Steve notices how the other Avengers try to adjust to Tony’s absence — Clint exclaiming that there’s actually coffee in the machine for once when he wakes up only for his expression to crumple when he remembers why that is; Natasha staring at the spot on the couch where Tony normally sat instead of watching what was on the TV; Bruce coming back up from his lab looking sick after only a short time down there; Thor complaining that Iron Man is being slow to assemble the first time they’re summoned without him. It’s not the first time any of them have lost a loved one, but it hits them hard. No one’s presence was quite as loud as Tony Stark’s.

Everyone takes their turn awkwardly asking Steve how he’s coping. Natasha bakes cookies with him one afternoon and then swears to kill him if he lets Clint find out about it. Thor offers to try and get him drunk and Bruce gives him a doodle of the whole team that Tony had drawn in the corner of one of Bruce’s notebooks. Steve protests, of course, telling them he’s still the leader of the Avengers, it’s his job to look out for them, but none of them listen to a word he says. Clint just shoves a mug of tea in his hands and tells him to shut up.

They don’t try to find a new member for the team. Not yet, anyway. Fury brings it up at a briefing after the second or third mission without Tony, and the five of them turn to glare so quickly that the tension in the room is nearly palpable. Fury doesn’t mention replacing Iron Man again.

* * *

“Widow, I need you to get down here now,” Steve shouts into the comm. as he rolls out of the way of a huge foot. The foot of an enormous robotic praying mantis, to be more specific. Steve doesn’t want to know why anyone would even bother making a giant praying mantis robot. He just wants it to stop smashing up Queens so he can go home, take a shower, and maybe get a full night of sleep for once.

“On my way, Captain,” Natasha replies, and a moment later she’s at his back, the two of them crouching behind an overturned car. The Hulk and Thor have given the robot quite a beating already, but it still refuses to go down. From his position atop a nearby building, Clint’s sighting an EMP when something behind the mantis makes him nearly drop the arrow.

“There’s something coming in fast,” he tells the team, eyes wide. “It looks like — ”

Iron Man touches down in front of the robot. If it weren’t for the giant mantis wrecking stuff, Steve would swear you could hear a pin drop. Then Iron Man raises his arms, letting off twin repulsor blasts, and just like that the switch flips and the team is back in action.

The mantis robot goes down mere minutes later. Steve doesn’t even wait for Natasha to confirm the thing is out for good before storming over to where Iron Man had landed, ready to tear them a new one. “Who the hell are you?” he snaps. “Where did you get that suit?”

“Steve,” Iron Man says, voice digitized in that familiar way, but it’s slightly off from what he’s used to, slightly higher pitched. “Calm down, Steve, it’s me.”

The faceplate slides back, revealing a flushed and panting but relieved-looking Pepper Potts.

* * *

When Pepper lands on the roof of Stark Tower, machines stripping her of the armor, Steve is waiting for her. He’s still in his own damaged uniform, and this is becoming an unfortunately common occurrence for him. Underneath Iron Man, Pepper seems to be wearing a bodysuit similar to the kind Tony used to wear, the fabric hugging her body in all the right places. Steve shifts on his feet, standing his ground as Pepper enters the penthouse. Now is not the time for those thoughts.

“I know what you’re going to say,” she says, walking right by him and dropping onto the couch with an audible sigh.

Steve follows, sitting down next to her, his shield propped up against the couch beside him. “And what’s that?”

“What do you think you’re doing, you could get yourself hurt, you don’t know how to fight, and so on.” She doesn’t seem concerned, however, just settles back into the plush cushions and leans against Steve’s shoulder slightly.

“Actually, I was going to say thank you.”

Pepper opens her eyes, turning her head to look up at him. “What?”

“Seeing Iron Man, having him at our side again, it really helped. You really helped.”

Pepper’s eyes drift closed again. “They miss him.”

She doesn’t need to specify who. He reaches out a hand, pets her hair even though he can’t feel anything through his glove. Her hair is damp and sticking to her face, just like Tony’s would get after wearing the helmet for a while. “Of course. Who wouldn’t.”

“JARVIS did most of the work,” Pepper tells him, and it takes a moment for Steve to realize she’s changed the subject. “I was just the body in the suit.”

“That takes guts, Pepper. Those were all yours.”

“I think I’m going to keep putting on the armor.” His hand stills, and Pepper sits up, intertwining his gloved fingers with her own. “The Avengers need Iron Man. The world needs Iron Man.”

“I’m not going to stop you, if that’s what you were expecting.” Pepper looks at him questioningly, and he smiles briefly. “Do you think I actually could stop you if you were determined enough?”

“You are the leader of the Avengers. And there’s still SHIELD…”

“Considering the near tantrum he threw when we told him he couldn’t have any of Tony’s repulsor tech, Fury will be thrilled to have Iron Man on board again.”

Pepper sighs again, and Steve pulls her closer. She curls up against his side, Steve’s free hand returning to stroking her hair.

“I just want to keep Tony’s name alive,” she whispers against his chest.

“I doubt Tony’s name will die anytime soon,” he jokes, but Pepper shakes her head.

“They’ll remember Iron Man, yes. Iron Man was a hero. But Tony, even though it was Tony doing all those good things, they still harped on every mistake he’d ever made in the past or could make in the future. Once Iron Man’s forgotten, the only thing people will remember about Tony Stark will be that tabloid garbage.”

“Of course not, Pepper, there’s no way people will forget what Tony did for this country. I mean, all I did was punch some Nazis and crash a plane and look what happened with Captain America.”

Pepper gives him a look of pure fondness. Steve’s not quite sure what he did to deserve that, but it’s better than the sad expression Pepper had on her face a second ago. “Captain America stands for everything America wants to be, Steve. It’s no wonder we preserved your image so resolutely.”

“That’s not — ”

“It is, don’t argue.” Steve shuts his mouth. Smiling now, Pepper carefully tugs the glove off the hand she’s holding and tosses it aside so she can kiss Steve’s bruised fingers. “A lot of people hate Tony, though. People who didn’t know the real him. All they see is the weapons manufacturing and the partying and the sleeping around. And it’s easy, falling back on that stuff and hating him, because otherwise they’d have to admit that Tony actually was a good person.”

“And that’s why you want to become Iron Man. To remind them that Tony Stark was a good person.” Steve’s voice is soft, understanding. He strips off his other glove, taking Pepper’s face in his hands and kissing her tenderly. When they part, he smiles and says, “Welcome back to the team, Iron Man.”

* * *

The evening news explodes with footage of Pepper piloting Iron Man, grainy images taken from cell phones and iTouches. Newscasters speculate whether she will be replacing Tony Stark as Iron Man (or Iron Woman, as they call her) and joining the Avengers.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of interviews and conferences, because Tony’s still dead and Pepper still has a company to run and legal issues to sort out. Adding Avenger duties on top of that is enough to wear anyone down, but Pepper pushes through it. Pepper has always pushed through it.

She tells the media that she will retain the Iron Man name, but they still insist on coming up with all sorts of ridiculous substitutes. The media seems to favor the Iron Lady, but Iron Maiden gets bandied about on occasion, which Clint continues to make fun of her for. He still calls her Iron Man in the field, as does the rest of the team.

Despite the overwhelming workload, Pepper finds time to train. She sits with JARVIS and goes over schematics and practices using the suit. Natasha coaches her in hand-to-hand combat and Steve sets work out routines and teamwork exercises. They all do what they can to help her, never complaining when they have to pick up the slack or pull her out of a tight situation in a battle. Pepper has never been more grateful for the family she and Tony had found.

* * *

With time, Pepper stops crying. The grief is undeniably there, deep and powerful, but she doesn’t let it hinder her, using it to drive herself forward. She has a job to do, after all, and she’s never been one for prolonged melodramatics.

The cracks in Steve’s figurative armor start widening.

* * *

After searching the workshop and their bedroom to no avail, Steve asks JARVIS if Pepper is in the tower. JARVIS directs him to one of the smaller studies they’d been using as a library, where he finds Pepper face down on the couch there, asleep. It’s incredibly sweet, and he doesn’t have the heart to wake her as he quietly moves across the room to sit on the floor beside her.

He picks up the notebook that had fallen to the floor, presumably when she’d rolled over, glancing at it for a moment before setting it aside. Too many numbers; must be business.

Pepper’s always been a light sleeper, however, and she blinks in surprise at finding Steve sitting in front of her. Without asking what he’s doing there, she reaches out and cups the back of his neck, pulling him closer for a kiss.

“What are we doing,” he murmurs once Pepper rests her head against her arm again, still watching him.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

What are we doing without Tony, Steve thinks, what are we doing in his tower with his tech and his money when he’s not even here. What are we avenging when we can’t even avenge his death, because there’s nothing to avenge except a simple car crash. What are we doing clinging to each other and wishing Tony was with us, wishing the bed sheets still smelled like him and our clothes still had grimy handprints on them.

He doesn’t reply, just leans against the couch and rests his head against the seat cushion. Pepper’s fingers card through his hair while she waits for him to speak. “You’d think by now I’d be used to losing people,” he says at last.

“I can’t imagine it gets any easier,” Pepper replies sympathetically, reaching down to lightly scratch the back of Steve’s neck. The gesture always makes him feel like a dog, but she knows how much he enjoys the feeling of her nails there. Besides, she never made fun of him for it. That had always been Tony’s job.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” she tells him, leaving Steve to wonder in what sort of world does working oneself to death does count as “fine.”

“You should rest more,” he says instead.

Pepper lets out a little laugh, smile half hidden by the crook of her elbow. “Tony may not be around anymore but you still have me to mother, at least.”

“I’m just trying to do what I can.”

Leaning forward, Pepper presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I know, Steve. Thank you.”

* * *

Pepper has the best of Stark Industries engineers on the job, but after weeks of using the Mark VII in battle, the repairs are getting harder and harder. The people assigned to the newly formed Iron Man work team fix most of the damage, but Pepper knows it’s only a matter of time before the suit is damage beyond repair.

“JARVIS, how many of the older suits are still usable?” she asks, surveying the Iron Man display in Tony’s workshop.

“Mark II through Mark VI are operational,” JARVIS answers. Pepper silently thanks Tony for his obsessive need to keep a functioning version of each suit despite no longer using them. “I would advise against utilizing some of the older models, however, as the upgrades made since then are vital for safe usage.”

“Put all of the spec files on my tablet, please.” She stops in front of the Mark VI, touching the arc reactor in its chest. Lost in thought, she almost doesn’t hear JARVIS speaking to her. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“I said, there are a few more files you may wish to see,” he repeats, filling the workshop with glowing blue charts.

Pepper steps amidst them, eyes flicking from half-formed diagrams of armor parts to medical charts of her own anatomy. “What is this?”

“It seems Mr. Stark had been working on a suit for you.”

“Always ahead of the game.” Pepper chuckles. A futurist, as he liked to call himself.

“The blueprints are unfinished, but I can fill in the blanks using data from his latest Iron Man armor. If you so desired, Ms. Potts.”

Pepper sorts through the files, reading what she can understand and setting aside the things that are too advanced. It’s a wonder anyone but JARVIS ever could tell what Tony’s schematics meant. “Does it have a name?”

“The files were placed under the heading of ‘Rescue,’ ma’am.”

She brings up a full-scale model of the suit’s design, sleeker and smaller than the Iron Man. Rescue stares back at her, faceplate just as intimidating as Iron Man or War Machine’s, and she says,

“Build it.”

* * *

There’s something small and electronic on the floor in pieces, Steve ignoring it as he paces around the workshop, hands clenching and unclenching as if he’s trying hard not to break everything else in the lab. Pepper carefully avoids stepping on the shattered machine as she makes her way over to him. He doesn’t pay any attention to her approach, and she merely watches him pace in silence for several minutes before speaking.

“It’ll be okay, Steve.”

Steve whirls around, fists clenched and a fire in his eyes. “It won’t be okay, Pepper, it can’t! How can anything be okay when he’s — with Tony gone.” She keeps her distance, still as patient as she ever was with him and Tony. Shaking his head, all the fight slips from his body, leaving him feeling tired and weak.

“I don’t know why I can’t get over it.” Steve’s expression is anguished, his tone desperate. He stops pacing, sliding to the floor and sitting with his face in his hands. “I don’t know why I’m still so _angry_.”

“Because you love him,” Pepper whispers, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders while he shakes with a mixture of suppressed rage and sadness. “You’ll always love him and it’ll always hurt, but you’ll be okay.”

* * *

Rescue looks even more beautiful in real life than it did as a hologram. It fits her like a glove, better than Iron Man, even after the modifications made to Tony’s suit. When Pepper flies into her first battle wearing Rescue and not Iron Man, the rest of the team look on with what can only be called awe. The suit lives up to its name as Pepper saves a busload of civilians from being crushed from part of a falling skyscraper.

“Tony would be proud,” Steve says to her when the fight’s over and done, the street very much worse for the wear but with the crisis of the day averted.

“Tony would be gloating about how well his prototype suit worked,” Pepper counters, but they know both statements are equally true.

She gives his hand a squeeze before they turn to deal with the reporters slowly making their way back on the scene.

* * *

_‘Is Rescue Trying to Replace Iron Man?’_ glares up at them from the first page of the newspaper delivered every morning to Stark Tower. Tony had always complained about wasting time with real newspapers, but Steve and Natasha both liked their news in hardcopy, so he had relented and let them have their way. This headline, however, was one Pepper would have liked to avoid.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” Clint assures her, frowning at the paper as he eats his cereal. “You’ve done nothing but promote Iron Man’s good image.”

“It’s shoddy journalism at best,” Natasha agrees, setting a plate of scrambled eggs and a glass of orange juice down in front of Pepper.

Clint turns his frown from the newspaper to Natasha. “Hey, where’s my eggs?”

“Make your own.” Natasha sits down beside Pepper and sips her coffee, unperturbed by Clint’s stare. Bruce sighs and slides his plate across the table, offering his own eggs to Clint. “You’re too soft on him,” Natasha tells Bruce, but Bruce just smiles faintly and gets up to make more eggs.

Pepper picks at her eggs until Steve enters the kitchen after his morning workout, Thor following close behind. As if he can sense the mood of the room, Steve’s expression falls, brow furrowed in confusion. His eyes land on the newspaper in the middle of the table, and he picks it up without a word, reading the headline.

“Pepper,” he starts carefully, “we know you’d never try to — ”

“I know.” Pepper stands, putting a hand on his arm and taking the newspaper from him. She heads straight for the recycling bin and drops it in. “I never was Iron Man; I was just trying to fill shoes that were too big for me. But I am Rescue, and no stupid headline’s going to stop me from doing what I can to help.”

An Avengers alert goes off right on cue, a screen in the kitchen wall informing them of a call from Fury. Pepper can’t help but laugh as Steve answers, and the call for the Avengers to assemble goes out.

She doesn’t waste any time putting on the suit, but she’s surprised to see Steve hurrying to catch up with her before she leaves.

“I’m hitching a ride with you,” he tells her, tugging on his cowl and gloves, shield already strapped securely to his back.

“It’s too early in the morning for this,” Pepper complains, earning a small smile from Steve.

“Careful, maybe being Iron Man actually did have too much of an influence on you.”

She pauses before putting on her helmet, leaning closer to kiss Steve. It’s quick and sloppy and wonderful, and Steve barely stops himself from slipping a hand behind her neck and deepening the kiss. Instead he pulls away, smiling as Pepper dons the final piece of her armor.

“Yeah, definitely a bad influence,” Steve says, and Pepper raises a delicate eyebrow before shutting Rescue’s faceplate.

He holds tight to the suit, just like he had when Tony was flying Iron Man. Pepper supports him with an arm around his waist, using the other to stabilize their flight as she takes off from the landing pad outside the penthouse.

Even without Iron Man, the Avengers still fight to protect the Earth, to help those who need it and avenge those they couldn’t save. The ghost of Tony Stark never really disappears, his image in the papers, his name on the company, his time spent with them in their memories. Steve and Pepper carry on, because it’s the only way they know how to get by.


End file.
